


Saturday Morning

by Shadowstar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:45:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowstar/pseuds/Shadowstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's taken a while, but Mycroft has come to understand that sometimes, sentiment is not such a bad thing. Or, a typical Saturday morning in the Lestrade-Holmes household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo, prompt "Love".

When he and Greg had first become a couple, it hadn’t been the plan to have kids. At least, not at first. That wasn’t to say that neither of them wanted children. Greg had told him, on numerous occasions, he and his now ex-wife had wanted children early on in their relationship, but nothing had come of it. First they had wanted to wait until they were more stable, financially. And then, of course, Greg’s career took off and it just seemed as though there was never a ‘right time’.

For him, it was a matter of simply never really thinking about it. He had figured the pressure would eventually fall onto him to carry on the family name, but it was not something he was entirely keen on doing. And then, of course, there was the ‘little problem’ of him being _gay_ that added a rather… interesting layer to the complication.

But then there was Greg. And then there were the two of them together. It had been a surprise to find that they both wanted something that neither had really thought possible, before. They had discussed it at length, of course. How it would work, the length of time that each of them would have to take off. And it was also agreed that the age of the child they adopted would have to be old enough to not be _completely_ dependent on them, every minute of every day. Mobility was rather a big issue, in that sense. But other than that… Well. Everything else was rather in the air.

And, finally, there was Marie. Little, sweet, big-brown-eyed Marie. She was beautiful with her bright white smile, and happy giggle. He would never dare admit it, at least to anyone besides Greg, but he had rather… _melted_ when he’d first met that little girl. She was 3, and had been given up for adoption by her mother to have the best chance possible in life. That was more than enough reason for him, of course. Greg had insisted on doing all of the classes, though. Reading all of the care books, all of the ‘For Dummy’ books that were available on the subject of child rearing.

Above everything else, he had to say that it was… _endearing_. Sweet, really, to watch Greg. He had been so very happy, and it had taken his breath away every time he saw that wide, honest grin spread over his partner’s face. How could he deny such a look, when it made things so much easier just to give in?

He has a feeling there is probably something _slightly_ wrong with that, considering some would perhaps comment that it was too easy, that he gave in. But he rather couldn’t help himself. Not when the soft looks he got in return were so very, very worth it.

Normally, on a Saturday morning, he would allow Greg and Marie both the time to wake on their own, and spend the leisurely hours planning out the possible activities that they could get up to. Today, of course, was going to be a trip to the zoo. It would be Marie’s first since they had adopted her, and he refused to say that he was _giddy_ over the idea. But there was a slight electricity in the air, one that spoke of anticipation, and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not deny that much, at least.

Without fail, even if he allowed his partner and their little girl to linger in their beds, the two would be up and coming down at approximately 8’o’clock, and right on time, there was the thundering of feet and that bright, sweet little giggle that had come to fill the house with its music, making the world a little brighter for it.

It was just as well that the two appeared then, too, considering that he was nearly done with the waffles he’d been making.

“What’s papa got on the stove for us this morning?” He hears Greg ask of their little girl, just before the two appear in the kitchen doorway. Greg has Marie on his shoulders, her chubby, dusky little fingers buried in her father’s hair and holding on for dear life, for all that Greg would rather _die_ than hurt their child.

“Waffles,” he announces with a small smile, honest though it is, earning a cheer from his family.

_His family_ . It seemed a novelty still to call them such, but they were _his_ , and he wholly planned on keeping it that way.  His attention is brought back to Greg and Marie when the two come over to him, each pressing a good morning kiss to his cheek and getting one in return, though he presses his return kiss for Greg to the man’s lips. It lingers for a moment before a familiar giggle breaks them apart.

“What kind of syrup would you like, munchkin?” Greg asks, already getting out the accoutrements for the meal, as well as plates and silverware.

Marie hums thoughtfully, before grinning, bouncing a little on her father’s shoulders, earning a brief tightened grip to keep her steady, but never enough to hurt.

“‘Trawberry!” She declares, loudly, proudly, earning bright smiles from both of her parents.

“Perfect choice, mademoiselle,” Greg compliments, before turning to him. “Myc? You want just butter, or are you gonna want some syrup, too?”

He huffs and shakes his head, giving the other man an amused glance. No matter how many times he had asked the man not to shorten his name, it had stuck. And, to be quite honest, the protest that he gave now was nothing more than a token one at best.

“Syrup, if you please,” he answers, nodding to the glass bottle in particular. “Maple,” he adds, just to make sure that Greg—and Marie—had heard him clearly.

“May-ple,” Marie sounds out, grinning brightly when she gets a bright smile from both of her fathers.

“That’s right, little one,” Mycroft reinforces, moving over to press another kiss to her cheek. He had never known what good it would do to be affectionate until Marie. Until _Greg_ , really. So much had changed with his relationship with the other man. Of course, he would never take _any_ of it back.

The praise and the kiss make Marie squeal, happy and bright, and she lets go of Greg’s hair to twist and reach out for Mycroft. He catches her in what is quickly becoming an easy move, now, tucking her close to his hip as he returns to the stove to pull off the last waffle. While he’s holding their little girl, Greg quickly makes up the table, pausing a moment to glance back, and Mycroft is once again struck, square in the chest, by the breadth of feeling in Greg’s face that is answered on his own, especially in the way he can feel his whole face soften.

Love, he thinks, was the biggest change of all. It was an emotion, _sentiment_ . But it was far from the defect that it had been declared by his little brother so long ago, learned from _him_ no less. He loves Greg. And he loves Marie. They are his family.

And this beautiful, bright sunny Saturday morning was as good a day as ever to remember that.


End file.
